


The Baroness Camoys

by adiva_calandia



Category: Henry IV Part 1 - Shakespeare, Henry V - Shakespeare, Hollow Crown (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 03:38:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adiva_calandia/pseuds/adiva_calandia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Baroness de Camoys, once known as Lady Percy, begs an audience with King Henry V.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Baroness Camoys

_LONDON. The Presence Chamber in the KING’s Palace._

Page:  
Lady Elizabeth, the Baroness Camoys.

KING HENRY V:  
Let her approach.

_Enter LADY ELIZABETH._

LADY ELIZABETH:  
My sovereign lord, good morrow.

KING HENRY V:  
And good morrow, my lady de Camoys.  
We bid you welcome, and by you  
Your noble husband, whom we well love.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
Glad am I to hear you speak so, and so will he be.  
Your majesty has been most kind to him.

KING HENRY V:  
He served us well at Agincourt, and those  
Who prove our friends, we will not soon forget.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
And those who prove your enemies?

KING HENRY V:  
                                                       Those too.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
God grant your highness wisdom to perceive  
The difference.

KING HENRY V:  
                       Why, so I daily pray,  
And so do all who wear a crown.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
                                                 Amen.

KING HENRY V:  
Spoken like a gentlewoman.  
My lady, what suit have you for us?  
Why did you seek the audience of the king?

LADY ELIZABETH:  
I blush to say it.

KING HENRY V:  
Nay, blush not. Your husband is a friend unto the crown.  
I knew you once to be a lady bold,  
And report gives out that you’re yet of that kind.  
I pray you, speak.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
Your majesty, there is that within my heart that I would speak,  
Aught that has nursed there for some years;  
But loyalty and reason bind my tongue.  
I would not be mistook.

KING HENRY V:  
Speak plain, lady.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
I cannot, my lord, not here. But let me tell you a riddle:  
What can be daughter thrice over,  
To a friend, to a loyal man, and to a traitor,  
And what can be done with such a thing?

KING HENRY V:  
A riddle to puzzle even the Sphinx.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
I fear the second part makes it no clearer.

KING HENRY V:  
A second part? Is’t so? Tell on, lady.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
I cannot, my lord. I have spoke too much already.  
And yet that riddle is all that I would ask of you.

KING HENRY V:  
My lords, cousins, withdraw and leave us. Yea, all of you.  
I’d have some private chat with Baroness Camoys.

_Exeunt all but LADY ELIZABETH and KING HENRY._

KING HENRY V:  
What say you now, my lady?

LADY ELIZABETH:  
My riddle stands before you, sir,  
And I think I wonder at it more than you.  
I often wonder at the riddle of myself:  
The daughter to a king’s heir, now disgraced;  
The daughter to a king’s ally, now a traitor;  
The sister of an heir and yet a prisoner;  
The widow of a loyal friend and yet a rebel.  
And wife, now, to a man you call your friend,  
But having seen men’s fortunes change so quick,  
I wonder who else I may be married to in time.  
And above all else, I wonder:  
What am I?

KING HENRY V:  
You are Baroness Camoys today, my lady.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
Aye, that I am. But am I Lady Percy still, as well?  
Or Mortimer? No, that name is long gone.

KING HENRY V:  
What would you be, my lady? Tell me truly.  
For if we wear the titles of our past still,  
Then I am Harry Monmouth, the Prince of Wales,  
And Hal the prince of Eastcheap, madcap prince who  
Could never pass nor wench nor cup of sherry  
Without he take a taste. And just such a man  
I was, once upon a time – but not him now.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
And yet, what is a man without his past?  
You are the sum of that that’s gone before,  
Be’t good or ill.

KING HENRY V:  
                        And what then is a woman?  
Is she not also?

LADY ELIZABETH:  
                        No. She is a man;  
In fact, she is the men that make her life.  
Her father, husband, brother, lord and king  
Are who she is and what she may be called, as:  
Daughter, wife or widow, sister, subject.  
And I, among all women living now,  
I think that I am rare indeed, for all  
The men that compass’d round my life have prov’d  
To be but scoundrels in someone else’s eyes.

KING HENRY V:  
So are all men, my lady – so am I.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
I know that well enough, my lord, I do.  
But to my eyes you stand now crownéd king,  
And therefore I must ask again, and it must be of you.  
My Harry was a traitor to your father,  
And likewise was his father rebel call’d.  
My brother was a threat unto your throne.  
My husband now your majesty calls friend.  
So what am I? What am I to the crown?

KING HENRY V:  
You are yourself: Elizabeth, called Kate.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
Nay, nay, call me not Kate, my lord. Your queen  
Might be so named by you, as I was named  
By my dear Hotspur.  
But I will be no other Harry’s Kate.

KING HENRY V:  
Nor would I ask it of you.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
                                       You should not.

KING HENRY V:  
I think, my lady, you forget yourself.  
No subject should command their sovereign so.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
I forget nothing. Such is a widow’s woe.  
But peace.

KING HENRY V:  
Do you still mourn him, lady?

LADY ELIZABETH:  
                                             Mourn, my lord?  
My lord Northumberland, my Hotspur? Ah,  
With every breath I’ve drawn since he has died,  
His dirge I’ve sung.  
No songstress was I when alive was he.  
It took his murder to waken song in me.

KING HENRY V:  
His murder, so you term it.  
And so come we to the point, I think.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
Aye, sire.

KING HENRY V:  
E’en so.  
Come, then, Elizabeth. Say what you will.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
I fear to speak it, sir.  
For not a day goes by but I do wish that thou  
And he might change your places – that Harry Monmouth  
Would buried be and Harry Percy in my arms again.  
Oh, majesty, I have cursed my womanhood  
For were I not a woman, beside my Hotspur I’d have stood  
And fought, and ta’en the blow for him, and died that he might live.  
In dreams I’ve stood astride your majesty  
With blade in hand and buckler on my arm  
And purpl’d my widow’s weeds with your blood.  
And yet, my king, my liege, my sovereign lord,  
How can I wish your majesty such harm?  
For men in war must fall, and truth to tell  
If it had not been he, it would be thee,  
And if not thee, some other man, and then  
Some other wife would weep upon his grave.  
And more, I cannot wish no harm upon you, Harry,  
Although my wilder side would that deny,  
For as you are England’s king, my king you are,  
And as good a king as I may hope to see within my life.  
He who is my husband now tells me  
That ne’er a finer general led him forth to war  
Than Henry did at Agincourt, and I believe him.  
Then too, our families called each other friends;  
That I cannot forget, nor wish to.  
  
KING HENRY V:  
Your dreams are treasonous, my lady Percy.  
  
LADY ELIZABETH:  
But not so I.  
  
KING HENRY V:  
                   Say'st sooth? What should I think?  
On hearing such a tale, what would you do?  
  
LADY ELIZABETH:  
I do not wear a crown, your majesty.  
  
KING HENRY V:  
Then let me doff my kingship for the nonce,  
There let it lie until our business' done.  
Now ask again: with such a tale as this,  
With all these words of hatred and of blood  
Mixed as they are with protestations strong  
Of thy true loyalty, what shall I do?  
Elizabeth, what wouldst thou do withal?  
  
LADY ELIZABETH:  
I'd not believe it.  
  
KING HENRY V:  
No. Nor should I, methinks.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
Then call your guards in, sire.  
Let England see that Harry Percy’s wife  
Will stand before her king and speak the truth  
And never mind the cost. Let all the realm  
See Henry, like his father, put down treason.  
I’d not blame you.

KING HENRY V:  
You truly are a Percy, are you not?  
I never would have thought to see such fire  
From Mortimer’s line.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
                                  Do you mock me, sir?

KING HENRY V:  
Nay, lady, never think it. Let that be  
My answer to your riddle: Who are you?  
You are your husband’s widow, and you stand  
As tall as ever he did on the field.  
You say that I should do what I must do,  
Call for your head, perhaps, or for the guard,  
Or send you to the Tower – for your grief?  
A traitor name you, for you have the gall  
To stand before my throne and mourn your lord?  
‘Twould shame me in the eyes of those I rule  
To treat a gentlewoman in such fashion,  
And well, I think, you know that to be true.  
But lady Baroness – Elizabeth,  
I say ‘twould shame me in mine own eyes more.  
I cannot, would not, will not call you foe,  
For treasonous although your dreams may be,  
I cannot find no fault with them, nor you.  
‘Twas I who killed your husband, and for that  
I warrant you’ve just cause to wish me ill.  
But, Lady Percy, I would have you know:  
I took no joy in it. A braver man  
And wilder in the field I never met.  
If I could have a regiment of Hotspurs,  
Why, I could rival Alexander’s realm.  
If any death can be called honourable,  
Then Percy died with honour sans pareil.  
I do not doubt if I were born a woman,  
I too would mourn the loss of such a husband.  
Does this content you?

LADY ELIZABETH:  
My lord,  
I cannot say.

KING HENRY V:  
Well, let it lie.  
But now we come to question why you came.  
Why come and tell me boldly of all this?  
How do you profit from confessing it?  
Come, speak again.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
Peace is my profit, sire.  
Or so I pray.

KING HENRY V:  
Amen, lady, amen.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
Do you regret it, sir? The wars, the strife?

KING HENRY V:  
Why, is there aught that I should regret so?  
Nay, Baroness, I am a soldier still,  
And I do not regret the battles fought.  
But as I am a king – ah, yes, I sorrow  
For every drop of English blood that spilled.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
In sooth, a kingly answer, majesty.  
I think ‘tis worthy an ambassador.

KING HENRY V:  
I hope my tongue may speak more truth than that.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
I take your meaning, sire, plain enough,  
And you have given me that which I sought.

KING HENRY V:  
Then have you found your peace?

LADY ELIZABETH:  
                                                    Such that will serve.  
My thanks, my liege.  
If you will grant me leave, then I will go.

KING HENRY V:  
‘Twas Shrewsbury that made me that I am,  
The field the forge, the hammer Hotspur’s sword.  
Ah, let it be. You have a son, my lady?

LADY ELIZABETH:  
I do, my lord.

KING HENRY V:  
                     Named for his father, sure?

LADY ELIZABETH:  
Aye, majesty. His name is Henry, too.

KING HENRY V:  
A worthy name, if Harry may say so.  
De Camoys?

LADY ELIZABETH:  
                   Percy.

KING HENRY V:  
                             That is bravely said.  
Well, well, let Percy’s mother be at ease,  
For Henry bears her and her house good will.  
That, time will show.  
I pray your sleep be easy, Baroness.

LADY ELIZABETH:  
Amen, my king. I pray the same for thee.

KING HENRY V:  
Farewell, my lady Percy.

_Exit LADY ELIZABETH_.

KING HENRY V:  
A fair prayer ‘tis, if God in Heaven hears.  
God! For one easy night in all my years.

_EXEUNT._

**Author's Note:**

> **A Tedious Brief Lesson On Scansion**
> 
>  
> 
> A quick note for those of you who are as geeky as I am and might want to know something about scansion in Shakespeare!
> 
> This piece, like much of Shakespeare's plays, is written in iambic pentameter -- ten syllables to a line with alternating stresses, da- _dump_ da- _dump_ da- _dump_ da- _dump_ da- _dump_. Iambic is actually a fairly natural rhythm for English speakers; we often speak in it without a thought. (See what I did there? Haha, my coffee makes me think I'm so clever.)
> 
> Here's what's cool about iambic pentameter, though, and about how Shakespeare uses it: it gives you clues on how to perform things, because it gives the actors rhythms to work with, and it gives you clues as to the character's inner state. Here are a few of the methods I used in this piece (although, as with many things, these are more like guidelines than actual rules):
> 
> **Overfull lines.** A line with more than ten syllables can indicate that a character has too many thoughts for their mouth to keep up with. There's also a specific type of overfull line called a feminine ending, where the line ends with an eleventh, unstressed syllable. Read into that what you will.
> 
> **Underfull lines.** A line with fewer than ten syllables can indicate a pause. If a line has only four syllables, there should be six syllables' worth of silence before the next line.
> 
> **Split lines.** When a line is formatted like so:
> 
> KING HENRY V:  
> Nor would I ask it of you.
> 
> LADY ELIZABETH:  
>                                        You should not.
> 
>  
> 
> Character B is finishing Character A's line. They're speaking quickly, one sentence following the other.


End file.
